The only difference between life and death...

Pain hurts. I suppose that lies within the definition itself, but who knew that it could bring me into a downward spiral going into a black hole of emptiness? Once again, my heart is slowly losing its petals. I imagine it in my youth as vibrant as a red rose, and as I go throughout life, the petals wither away, like in Beauty and the Beast. Each time another person comes into my life and leaves me crying on the floor in the end (I should have known, right?) yet one more petal falls as well. This year has been so rough for me already. I'm going through so many changes in my life and all I want is someone to share it with. Apparently, no one wants to be in my life. They use me, for one thing or another and leave me out to dry like an old dish towel. It is taking every ounce of will power in my being right now not to grab a safety pin and be the one to cause myself pain. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I've worked so hard to be above the influence, above my depression, above everything that has hurt me in the past. It is not working as well as I had hoped, but I'm still going strong. Next year this time I will be a completely different person. After my surgery in August, I will be able to be the person I feel like on the inside most of the time. I'm so sick and tired of hiding behind my weight. I am so scared of rejection, of hate, of dying alone. Part of me feels like I will never find someone to love me, no matter how many times people tell me otherwise. Sure, it helps for the meantime, but I still cry myself to sleep at night knowing I'm alone, knowing no one is there to hold me or kiss me goodnight, and knowing that there is not someone out there thinking of me. The only difference between life and death is that death is less painful... but much more of a cop out than life. I will push forward and try to fight my emotions. I will fight the urges for my mania and my depression and hopefully, someday, maybe, be a normal person.

Hiding Behind The Mask

So here I sit, once again; Pondering about life and what it means. I do not know why I was put here on this earth. I think I want to help people, but in reality, I am a horrible person. I am selfish and a hypocrite and all around bad. I steal. I cheat. I lie. But the worst part is, people think I am good. Going into nonprofit work or even taking the rabbinical field is supposed to make me a good person, someone holy and righteous. I am not even close to being there. I honestly do no think I will get into Hebrew Union College for graduate school. I do not know what I want to do after college. No grad school is going to want me at 21 and a fresh undergrad graduate.

I am really scared. I do not talk about it a lot, but I am deathly afraid. What happens if I do not find a job? Where will I live? What will I do? I might have to move back to the Antelope Valley. I hate it there. There are no Jews. I want to marry a Jew and start a family. I want a Jewish life. I currently am madly in like with MBG but he only sees me as a friend. We have talked about it and he says I might push him away if I continue to keep pushing it. I am so confused because when I just try to be friends with him, he will buy me lunch and flirt and tell me secrets and want to spend time with me.

I have to hide behind the mask of pretending to care, but not in the way I really do. He can never know how much I care because not only will it push him away, but it will make me more vulnerable than I already am. I am so vulnerable. I have sexual relations with many people hoping that I will find that attention and need I need from someone, but I can never find it. I am just confused about what I am doing. Am I doing it for the pleasure? If so, I am failing because I am not getting ANYTHING out of it. If I am doing it for a relationship, I am crazy because all of the ones I mess around with want nothing more than sex.

I give up on relationships. I am just going to make the wall bigger. I am going to add more bricks to the wall that holds me away from my true feelings. I can never show anyone how I really feel. If they truly knew, I would be alone. I am worthless. I know it, but I hope they can't see it. Or do they? End.

Life

So I am going to start writing every day. It might help calm my feelings and suppress my urge to cut or commit suicide. I am worthless. I know people will tell me that I am not, but I do not believe them. I do not think that I will accomplish anything in life. I am a pathetic human who is greedy and overweight and a hypocrite. I wish I was anything else but me. I wish i was anywhere else but here. If all else fails, there is always school, right? But where will that take me? I do not know what I want to do with my life. I want a husband. I want kids. I want to be happy. I want a lot of things that are never going to happen. I want to die. That will happen eventually I suppose.

Yonah is a douche. I just wish I was more than a piece of ass. I cannot get him out of my life. There is always that glimmer of hope that he'll one day realize that he likes me. I need to stop being so vulnerable to him. Michael too. He makes me upset. He deserves the best, but why can't it be me? I'm just not good enough for anyone. I need to be alone for a while. I am afraid that will make it worse though. I need people to care. Who am I kidding? No one cares now. David is a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. I never see him. He is not what I want. We have great sex, but I am just not happy. I wish I knew if he was.

For a while, I was starting to think I loved him. I think I was just in love with the idea of someone actually loving me, someone actually caring. No one cares about me. No one. If I left the earth right now, there would be a few people who would notice. They would feel guilty because I told them about my suicidal tendencies. They would not care though. Only about themselves. I am not worthy enough of their sadness. I am not worthy enough for anything....

Water Running Down My Face

I am miserable. I do not know what I am doing anymore. I am lying to myself that I am happy because I am too afraid to be alone. I am too afraid to admit that no one will ever love me. I am to afraid to admit I am sick, that I have a disease that will eventually kill me. I am too afraid to admit that i have manic depression. I am afraid to admit that I am fat. No matter how real the problem is, I joke about it like it means nothing. Truth is, it does. Fuck! I hate crying about everything. I hate crying about just being a sex object. I hate that I am not good enough for anyone. They tell you to love yourself so others will... Well no one cares unless I am bleeding on the wrists. I give up on caring. I just want to love and be loved in return. That will never happen. My boyfriend is a joke. The two men I would be happiest with either see me as a sex object or a tool to get someone other than me. I never could truly be with the women I like either. I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate this. I say I just want to make a difference but it would mean nothing to me without someone to share it with. I will never be happy. I am going to die alone. I need attention yet it is the thing that I dispise the most because it is never sincere. I wish someone would be sincere. I wish I could be happy. I wish I could be beautiful. I wish I could love my self....